fandomhighdorms | Third floor hallway, sometime after Midnight, very early Saturday morning

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Third floor hallway, sometime after Midnight, very early Saturday morning

It was late, but Will found herself unable to sleep. After spending a couple hours tossing and turning in bed, she finally sat up, and resignedly admitted that she just wasn't going to fall asleep. She threw on her pink jacket over her PJs, and slipped quietly out of her room so as not to wake Teddy.

Will wandered down the fourth floor hallways, and down the stairs to the third floor. She figured that walking to the end of that hall and back up to her room would help her stretch out, and maybe be able to get to sleep easier.

There was some kind of sweet smelling herb in the air, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

(OOC: Open.)

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Blackheart had come back to his room after a bit of a walk around the island. He preferred the place at night. It was a little more homey, minus the sulfuric stench and the glow of hellfire. The daytime was fine as well, but night was... it was comfortable.

Even so, he grew bored quickly enough and returned to room 310, stopping to boggle at a letter stuck to the door (http://flamingbonehead.livejournal.com/2327.html).

That stupid fingerprint smudged his name up good, but there was only one stupid in the school who was idiot enough to call him 'Gerard.'

So if anyone were to happen to walk by to see him growling in frustration at the letter as he tore it from the door, that would be why.

Will didn't know the exact reasons, but she was both somewhat unsurprised to see Blackheart up and about at this time of night, and even less surprised to see that he had a paper in his hand.

"Another letter?" she asked, stopping by his door on her way down the hallway. "Is that one from home too?"

"Hardly," he grumbled, looking at it and wondering if perhaps he should burn this one anyhow. "This one is from across the hall."

Stupid, stupid Johnny Blaze.

She looked at the door across the hall, but couldn't get any clues about who was behind it.

"Is that one from your girlfriend?" she teased.

Blackheart stared at her.

Some day, he would be able to eat souls again, and hers would most certainly be on the menu for that comment.

"I don't have a girlfriend. I don't need or want a girlfriend. Johnny Blaze is just a puny little mor-" Mortal was a bad choice of words, here. "-tgage broker or something. Who happens to live in that room, there."

He was very bad at this.

Will frowned at Blackheart's statement. A mortgage broker? That seemed too weird even by Fandom standards. Who would trust anyone on this island for serious financial advice?

"I don't think I've ever met him," was what she said aloud. "Is he a friend of yours?"

Will felt like she was going to sneeze from that weird smell that was everywhere.

"An acquaintance," Blackheart stated quickly. "A neighbor. Lives across the hall, has insane notions. We drove his bike out the common room window last week."

He wrinkled his nose a little. He was smelling smoke, wasn't he?

Probably just some sort of stupid mortal perfume that Will was wearing.

Will's head was starting to feel a little fuzzy for some reason.

"Yeah, I heard about that on radio," she said, moving in closer. "You guys must have been pretty crazy to do that."

"Crazy is one word for it, I suppose," Blackheart said, speaking a little slowly as he eyed her. She was getting close. Even demons had their little bubbles of personal space, here.

...

Crazy. Homicidal... Same thing, right?

Will smiled at him and reached in toward the piece of paper.

"Can I see it?" she asked politely.

"Can you see it? It's really none of your--"

Your...

He looked at her hand on the piece of paper.

...

Why was this girl handing him a note?

"Do I know you?"

She tried to answer, but nothing came to mind. Did she know him? Where were they? And who was she, anyway?"

"I'm ... not sure," she replied uncertainly.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and then looked at the note in his hand.

"I guess that would make two of us, then..." He read the note.

...

"Were you giving this to me?"

He had a strange notion that she wouldn't know that answer, either.

"Maybe?" she said. She looked down at the note that the two of them were holding and rad over what it said. "I don't think that I'm 'Gerard' so..." She looked up at him. "Is that you?"

He looked at the note, then at the girl, and then back at the note. The name at the bottom was smudged.

"I... suppose I am," he decided. "And that would make you, uh." He squinted. "Jonni? Jonie?"

Something?

Gerard. Okay. So Gerard and Jo-smudge were standing in the hallway. That was... something.

Jonie sounded it would be okay. She felt like she should give it a shorter, boyish nickname, though. Maybe she'd try out 'Jo' later.

"Okay. So. We're Gerard and Jonie, and I seem to have invited you out for a burger or something." She frowned in concentration as she tried to rack her brains for anything else. "And for some reason, I can't remember anything more."

"Neither can I," Gerard admitted with a frown and a sigh as he read the paper over again. "We apparently haven't seen one another in a while. That's... something?"

Not much, but something.

"I guess," Jonie said. Was her handwriting really that messy? "Then I guess we should go on this burger thing tomorrow, huh?"

He thought hit her and she paused. "Where is my room, anyway?"

"I don't know," Gerard confessed, and then frowned deeply and looked at the note. Nope, no address.

"I... I have no idea where I live, either." Oh Hell. "It's ... pretty dark. So we can assume that we're wandering around passing notes at night. Notes about burgers. Maybe we met somewhere in the middle."

What was a burger, anyhow?

"Either we're dating, or we're secret agents of some sort, and 'burger' doesn't mean... whatever burger means." He frowned deeply. "What does 'burger' mean, anyhow?"

"You know, a beef patty on a bun with like lettuce and other veggies on top." Boy, Gerard's mind must have really been wiped to forget something as basic as that. She had to admit, the idea of being a secret agent sounded kind of cool.

"Well, I think we have two choices," Jonie said. "We can either break into one of these rooms for the night, or we can go to that big open room that seems to be at the end of the hallway, and sleep on the couches there. Got a pref?"

"If we really are secret agents, I don't think breaking and entering for the sake of getting some sleep is really a good plan," Gerard said, mulling over his options. "The open room there is far more legal."

...

"And might have some clues as to why we can't remember anything. Maybe some sort of sinister villain wiped our memories to keep us from putting them in prison."

Gerard liked that notion. It sounded... dangerous. So he grinned. Why not? If he couldn't remember who he was, why couldn't he be a secret agent? Slipping through the darkness and the shadows, fighting crime, getting the girl...

Jonie nodded. "I like your thinking, Gerard. So, we camp out in the open room tonight, and then try to figure out who did this tomorrow."

Jonie kind of liked the idea of fighting evildoers and saving people It felt right, somehow.

Maybe she really was a secret agent.

Gerard nodded, looking for all the world like he had been doing sombre secret-agent type work his entire life, and then set off to head for the open room down the hall.

Whoever took their memories would pay, he decided, oblivious to the flash of fangs that flickered across his face.

It was perhaps very fortunate that his back was to Jonie at the time.

Jonie felt some strange sensation for a moment, but she chalked it up to just being a side-effect of whatever caused her memory loss. Psychic powers weren't real.

She followed Gerard down the hallway, hoping that they'd get to the bottom of the mystery when the sun came up.

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Third floor hallway, sometime after Midnight, very early Saturday morning

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